Operation of the Fallen Duration
by Saraphinzorsfershizx
Summary: The Lone Wanderer has been always known for his ulterior motives in almost everything he's done. Until one day, everything changes. With his father gone, his course completely changed, and no one to turn to, he sets off for something better: To be known as more than the Lone Wanderer. His dream might be gone, along with his father, but when there's hope... LWxSarahLyons. :
1. Chapter 1

**Let's put a Foreword!**

**Yes, I took liberties. I wanted to try my hand at writing Fallout Fanfic after not playing for years. It's been my favorite since forever, but I haven't had time to play.**

**Anyway, I've taken several liberties concerning the personalities of** **Sarah Lyons (although She's not very apparent in this chapter) and some other characters in the future. Otherwise, I believe I've been somewhat spot on. If there's somethign wrong, let me know and I'll see what I can do. Also, yes Myriam is my own character. :) Enjoy. :D **

The sound of boots on the broken desert sand echoed off of every rock, every shrub, every bush. They were relatively quiet considering how heavy the steel of the armor was. A gun was strapped to the back of his light combat armor; an assault rifle to be exact.

His face was straight, stern, and willing. He had one mission and one mission only: Survive to make it to the Citadel's Commons. Or at least, what was now the Commons. His limp had been getting more severe, and his limbs were starting to feel the numbing effects of the blood loss. It had been three days since the Talon Company had sprayed bullets into his tent while he slept. It was a good thing he had just enough insight to stay quiet. The Talon Company never got too close to his camping area. They'd seen too many of their own die from close range combat with the Wanderer to know not to get that close.

His black hair was cut short, which prevented his normal curls from coming out, and his facial hair had just started to grow back after a short three days of not shaving. It had been four weeks of walking through the wastes before he'd come into contact with any type of knife to shave with. It had become unshapely to say the least. He was a handsome man, although one couldn't very much tell from the condition he was in.

Even considering the shape he was in at the moment, he looked a whole lot more built and handsome than before. He had let himself go after the incident at Project Purity. It wasn't his ideal ending, or even an ending that had ever occurred to him before now.

He was just outside of the Citadel now: A place he'd very much didn't want to be. But the Brotherhood called and while he was the Lone Wanderer, he couldn't bring himself to say no. If they had called for him, it meant that they had truly needed him. What kind of modern day vigilante would he be if he'd simply said "No, Deal with your problems on your own?" Not a very good one, that's for sure.

It would take a total of three days to recover from the bullets he'd had in his left arm, and never mind the amount of time it would take for him to be capable of any physical fighting.

He knew he had to make it into the Commons. Sure, he'd be fine if he made just into the city itself, and considering the amount of supermutant activity in the city, he was more than happy to. But one thought plagued him: He stood for hope. That was his motif, his figure, his whole meaning. He stood for the future in a wake of misery. How could he be the meaning of the future if he'd simply fallen in the middle of the Citadel's courtyard, almost dead. He was the death-defier and the whole reason for the progress of the Wasteland's revolt against the Enclave. He knew one thing if not many others: He stood for something. And he needed people to see that. In his eyes, even if he knew the truths about himself, truths that so many people would never get to know mostly because they had never asked, he wanted to induce some kind of change for the better.

The gates to the Citadel started to pry open, causing a shiver to crawl through the wanderers body and up his spine. It made him stand straighter, force himself to rid of his limp for simply a few minutes, and bring back his commanding voice, fighting back the teary, scratched up voice that threatened him below the surface.

A minute passed as he fought this internal battle between his mind's willpower and the relentless throbbing and aching and bleeding of his body. Then finally, Paladins and recruits stepped forward, nodded at him and held onto their guns, as if it were their safety, and essentially it was.

The Wanderer nodded back at them, looking around for a few minutes before stepping into the open gates.

At the end of the courtyard, where several recruits had stopped practicing to stand at the Wanderer's attention, was Owyn Lyons, standing solemn as ever.

The Wanderer let his eyes float over all of the recruits looking at him. His eyes seemed weak regardless of his efforts to make them steady. There was an obvious hurt in them, which he intended to cover as completely emotional pain.

The Wanderer kept his pace down to Owyn Lyons, to whom he stopped to face. "Sir."

"Ah, The Wanderer at last. Let us go to the quarters and discuss our calling you." Owyn Lyons said turning to the side a bit and gesturing to the direction of the quarters.

"No." The Wanderer said, letting his eyes flutter shut a moment and then shoot open, as he tried to keep his composure. "There is some business I must attend to in the Commons. A certain will of passion I must attend to. We can meet at the Quarters in twelve hours."

Owyn Lyons, looking half startled and half angry, stared at the Wanderer. "Is that So? We have called you for a very important reason, Wanderer. We need your first and utmost attention immediately."

"Is that So?" The Wanderer mocked unamused. "Twelve hours, Lyons." With this he walked with a certain swagger to him, down toward the bunkers of the Commons, a recent development after Project Purity. It was basically an emergency area for the near dying.

He opened the door to the Commons and stepped in, out of the sight of the hundreds in the courtyard awaiting his arrival. Something big was going on now. But, he had no time. He needed to stop his bleeding. When the door closed behind him, he stumbled against the door, let out an exasperated, angry yell of pain and continued to slide down the wall. No doubt everyone from the courtyard could have heard it if they'd been quiet enough. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the pain back with his willpower.

"Hey! We need a medic over here!" A female voice rang out, shouting to any person available.

The Wanderer opened his eyes and looked at the woman. She was blond, familiar in almost every aspect, except he couldn't place where he might have seen her. "No!" He yelled at her, reaching his arm up and grasping her wrist with all the might he had. "Are you trained in any," He stopped, holding back as much as he could as a striking pain arose from his side and left shoulder at the same time, forcing it's way through his veins and out of his mouth; a loud scream rang out through the bunkers.

"What is it? Out with it quickly!" She warned, coming closer to his face.

"Are you trained in any medical practice?" The wander asked, in a low, barely audible voice. "No one must know of my injuries. Not even Owyn Lyons. This must stay between you and I."

She was taken aback slightly, looking at him as if he were crazy. "I've been doing a small internship with the surgeon for the Citadel, but I am in no shape for major injuries' cases."

"You need to do this." The wanderer pleaded her, his eyes starting to tear a bit. "Please."

She looked around, a woman stood behind her, looking at the two of them, shocked at who she was looking at.

"Myriam, go, get the gurney ready and all of the surgery and medical supplies for any and every case possible. Put all of the items in Surgery room A1." The woman whose wrist the Wanderer clasped said to the other, as she turned to face her. Her blond hair swung as she turned back to the Wanderer, "Come, Wanderer, We'll get through this."

It tore through him like a knife that she'd used the plural. No one had ever said those words to him. _What a nice way to die,_ he thought as he wrapped one arm around the woman's neck and the other clasping his right side, where blood was freely flowing now, _knowing that at least someone tried to save me. _The woman half carried, half dragged him to the next room, a surgery room. She really had prepared for the worst in such short time. No doubt this was Surgery Room A1. She pulled him onto the table and tore off his combat armor with a sharp combat chuckled, although it came out more like a sob, _Maybe I'm not damned after all._

A swirl of lights overhead ended his depressive thinking, until he had no thinking at all, and slipped into the darkness of unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Again, I just want to say, I did take Liberties! Sooo, Just Deal. :l **

The first thing that he noticed was the rusty, metallic smell that radiated from the room's left corner. He let his eyes sit for a moment, unmoving. He let the throb of the aching incisions and his other injuries sink in. It immediately made him nauseous to think of what could have happened to him under the whole ordeal.

His body continued to throb and distract his attention from another presence in the room. He only noticed it when the door to the room, which he assumed was still Surgery Room A1, had opened and induced a somewhat loud "Shush!" from the female voice sitting next to his bed.

He froze, even more still than he had been before.

"I'm Sorry, Sentinel Lyons, but your father is requesting your presence in the Discussion quarters. He cannot find the Wanderer and will be advising his crew and staff, which includes you, to engage in extra missions to deal with the threatening situation." The words had rolled off of the man's tongue like water. It was continuous and unstoppable. Probably something he learned to do after being yelled at by his leading officers.

It was as if his blood ran cold at this moment. He had finally realized where he had seen this young woman. He hadn't even recongnized her. They went on missions together. How could he forget the squad that followed him into The Jefferson Memorial to restore Project Purity, The squad that watched him enter the purifier and dragged him out when it was over? _Has it really been that long?_

This was the daughter of the man he refused to see and had effectively embarrassed in his own courtyard. He immediately realized the position he'd put himself in: It wouldn't matter if he'd pleaded or begged. Him on his knees would never be enough to stop Sentinel Lyons from relaying all that's happened to her father. She was too loyal to her leading officers. It was truly a fruitless and futile endeavor to even ask.

"I cannot go." The woman, Sentinel Lyons, replied. "Tell him to offer a few more hours for my grievances.

"Sarah," The male voice said quietly, walking into the room and closing the door quietly behind him, "The deployment is being sent out tonight. The Wanderer has..." He stopped, no doubt to look at the Wanderer's body on the table, "left us."

"So," Sentinel Lyons said, obviously annoyed or angry, or both, "They're not even going to look for him?"

"Well, after they heard the scream from inside the Commons, everyone is fairly certain he's dead." The male said Matter-of-factually. "I don't think there's a man who could take the amount of pain to induce that kind of scream. Even if he were the Lone Wanderer." He said even more quietly, "I've seen men that have been killed in battle who couldn't let out something like that, even if they'd been trying."

"That is enough." Sentinel Lyons said, her voice stern and unbreakable. "I will have no more word of this. I'll see my father when I see him. The matter at my hands is bigger than You or I. Or even my Father."

At that, the Wanderer pushed himself into a sitting position. A sharp pain ran up the course of his body, but it was thankfully nothing close to the pain he'd previously faced. He allowed his body to rely on his hands, which propped him up against the table. He let his eyes stay closed for a few minutes, so he could micromanage how to make sure the pain doesn't start up again.

"Sarah..." The male voice, obviously shocked and a bit scared rang out. "Well, I'll be damned!" His voice rang out loud as if someone had taken every tools and table in the room and threw them down a flight of stairs.

"I lied." Sentinel Lyons said, this time her voice much closer to the bed and her tone much more uplifting. "You'll get over it. Go and Tell my father I'll be seeing him in a matter of minutes."

The Wanderer turned his head to look at the two people, finally opening his eyes, and say the startled expression of the young male. His hair was dirty blond, or possible dirty itself rather than its' natural color, and his facial structure looked quite young, considering. He'd guessed the man was around 38 or 40. He made a small 'Hmph' sound as he looked at the man. "I'm surprised you've lasted so long with the amount of noise you make." The Wanderer picked his legs up and hung them off the side of the table as he turned his body in the direction of Sentinel Lyons. "I would've thought the supermutants would've had your head by now."

Sentinel Lyons looked at the Wanderer, hopefully. It was a nice expression for him to see, but he guessed he'd never have the chance to admit it. "Go, Colvin, tell my father I will see him soon."

The man, Colvin, stepped out of the room, quietly and probably scowling at the Wanderer's comment. When the door shut behind him, The Wanderer immediately turned to Sentinel Lyons and said one thing"The File." He held his hand out.

Sentinel Lyons, pausing for a moment, turned to a table at the far wall and grabbed a manilla looking folder. She handed it to the Wanderer. "Everything I've found wrong with you, inside and out, is in this file." she said, then smirked a bit, which made her look even smaller in her brotherhood armor, "Excluding your personality and your judgmental nature, of course."

The Wanderer made no further comment. He flipped through it quietly, placed it beside him. He looked down at himself. A plain white shirt donned his upper body, instead of the Combat armor he'd had before. His lower body still had the combat armor on. "My upper armor?" He said like a statement, but regardless it still spurred Sentinel Lyons to action. She bent down under the table and came up with a less worn replacement.

"I had no choice but to cut the other one off. It was pretty much just shreds when I had finished." She sighed, "But here is a replacement from the armory."

He took the upper armor, examined it and turned back to Sentinel Lyons. "So, who did you tell?"

She looked confused.

"I think everyone knows that Sentinel Sarah Lyons cannot keep a secret for then an hour. So who knows I'm here, and fairly alive," The Wanderer said, ignoring the throb in the left shoulder. "Other than Colvin now."

Sentinel Lyons let out a slight 'Hmph' as she crossed her arms. "I told who I had to in order to keep you alive." She still looked at him. "I did everything within my power to keep you alive, Wanderer. Even if that meant telling the word you had died. Don't chastise me for it. We needed your help, and I wasn't going to let it end this way." A few moments passed after this as the Wanderer said nothing. "In the mean time, get dressed. My father needs your help if you're willing to give it. He's in the Discussion Quarters waiting for me. We'd all like it if you'd do your big entrance and show up."

With that, the Sentinel turned away from him and stepped out of the room, leaving him alone for the first time since he'd arrived at the Citadel.

He stepped out of the room, the folder folded and tucked into the back of his pants. He'd washed off his face and everything else and made it seem like he'd never had surgery at all, although, he saw the bandages on his shoulder and side. Walking was a big hard, and it gave a limp that made him move with swagger, but he enjoyed moving again. The folder said he's been out for 68 hours, so the dull throb was much less severe than the pain he'd remembered from before.

This is the moment he lived for. The goose-bump inducing, thrilling feeling of walking beside death and coming back before it was all over. He hated to say and he loathed himself for thinking it, but he owed Sentinel Lyons one even she angered him more than ever.

He came to the door he'd entered more than 68 hours ago and let his hand rest on the handle for a moment as he took in one deep, staggering breath. Then he turned the handle, pushed the door open and let the sun's rays flood the hallway. No one really paid much attention until he was a few paces out of the door, walking across the courtyard to the Discussion Quarters.

People stopped, the noise started to quiet, and people began to murmur. Everything was quiet until a little voice rang out from the rest. "Wanderer!" A little boy started to run to him, causing the Wanderer to stop in his tracks and turn to the boy, who was just before him now. "They said you were dead." The boy smiled wildly. "I knew it wasn't true," He added tilting his head closer and whispering as if it were a secret.

The Wanderer knelt down on one knee and looked at the child. "Smart kid." He told the boy, then stuffed his hand in his pocket and retrieved a rock. "I know it's not much, but I got this," He said turning it in his hands, "From Little Lamplight. Ever heard of it?"

"Yeah! The town that has no adults." The boy smiled, he was no older than nine.

"Well, at first it was hard to get into because they didn't trust me, but after a while, they'd heard of all that I've done," He said looking at the boy in the eyes, "and they began to let me into their city. This rock represents something. Can you tell me what?"

"Trust?" The boy asked, pondering for a moment.

"Hope." The Wanderer corrected, "and faith." He paused for a moment, twisting it in his palm. "If you have hope and faith, you have nothing to worry about. All else will follow." With that he took the boys hand, very gently as not to hurt him, and placed the rock in it, closing his fingers over the rock.

Then he stood and walked toward the Discussion Quarters, making it out of the near silence of outside, and into the dreadful one inside.

He slipped into the back of the room, keeping himself unnoticed. Everyone was looking forward at Elder Lyons, who was now relaying the situation to them all:

"We're under a direct threat now, involving the immigrants from The Pitt." Elder Lyons said, standing next to a map. "They're coming in infected, and turning into Trogs here. We have enough super mutants to take care of here, so we needs to deploy some people into The Pitt to see what's going on, and if we can fix the situation. We have teams deployed to take out the normal Supermutants, but we've had at least a dozen reports of murders in relation to new Trog activity, especially in the Arefu and Megaton Areas. If They've made it that far south, we've got some big problems. We're deploying eight teams to go out. You guys are one of them."

Elder Lyons turned away from the map, put his hands on the table and looked at everyone standing around the table. "This is a very dangerous mission. Especially so without the Wanderer. Are you ready to accept this new development?"

The Wanderer somewhat smiled as he stepped forward from up against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. "When are we being deployed?

**So Review? Let me know where you want to see this go?**

**Thanks :D  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, I haven't updated in a while and this might seem like it's moving to fast.**

**Let me know? Constructive criticism is wanted and encouraged. :)**

**Thank you for reading!**

There were Six Brotherhood of Steel members walking several yards ahead of the Lone Wanderer. Their arms were ready to shoot and fire. Ready to kill on sight alone.

They were on one mission to one of the biggest economic booms of the wasteland. One of the smallest, yet most worthy of recognition, town in the wasteland.

The troupe was about four miles away, the town and walls in their sights now, although it had a different eerie feeling. The Lone Wanderer, pulling out his sniper rifle, looking down through the scope. The walls of the city were somewhat damaged, more so than before, and the entrance to the city had been left open, blood stains on the dirt and sand leading up the walls and grassy areas off the side.

It wasn't looking good.

"Wanderer," Sarah Lyons had, in the time that The Lone Wanderer was looking through the scope on his rifle, turned away from her pack and walked toward him. They were all on their guard and even though her eyes screamed sleep, her heart was dedicated to survival. "It doesn't look good up there. Colvin says there's blood all over the sand and there's a body hanging off of the atom in the town center."

The Wanderer scoffed. Thankfully, he'd disabled the nuclear device months ago. It surely would've been blown to smithereens had he not taken care of it. Although, he wasn't exactly welcomed by the people of Tenpenny Tower anymore. "I saw the blood. The body I did not notice."

"Yes, well," She sighed, looking over at her pack. "We're have reason to believe it's Doc Church, the doctor of the town. He's got similar facial features from what we can tell at this distance. However, the body is so mangled it's hard to tell."

"I wouldn't doubt it. He was kind of a wild card." The Wanderer said, keeping his expression the same although his heart cried out. _Dammit, Doc._

"Regardless of the body, we haven't dealt with Trogs before, and we don't know how they change people. We're going to need some kind of guidance here." Sarah Lyons said, looking at her group, all of them had their guns raised in such a serious matter that she'd never seen before. They were scared of this new creature.

The Lone Wanderer sighed. "Yeah, sure. I'll tell them a bit on how to handle it." He stood up and followed Sarah Lyons back to the group of trained operatives.

"Colvin and Dusk, Go and keep look-out a few feet on the sides. Everyone else come here."

Colvin scoffed and Dusk rolled her eyes, keeping their guns pointed toward Megaton.

The small group of four now gathered around in a small semi-circle. "Trogs are not too difficult. Especially if you have a good gun and some time. Many of them are a problem, but the way Megaton looks, it seems only a few remain in the city. Most of them have probably moved on." He lifted up his gun and started pointing out part of the gun they'd want to use to make them fall over. "If they get too close for comfort, use the butt of the gun if you can, or throw them back with the side. The key is to use the power from your hip to get them back."

This went on for an hour before The Wanderer chose two who had the lesson down fairly well and had them keep watch while he taught the same thing to Colvin and Dusk, whom of which picked it up almost immediately.

"If you don't have a weapon, then you should do the same thing with the armor on the sides of your arms. It works similarly, except that you'll need more strength and push." He said, demonstrating on Vargas. Then he stopped, spotting Sarah Lyons on the side of the circle, watching intently, but not asking any questions.

"Lyons," The Wanderer said walking up to her as the small group watched. "You haven't practiced. You got it, already?"

"I've watched and understand." She defended, holding her gun in front of her, facing it toward the dirt.

"Watching is not practicing. You're supposed to be a leader. If something happens to you, this squad will fall apart. There's a lot riding on you." He took his gun's sling off of his back and threw it to the side. "Give your gun to Colvin."

It wasn't the fact that he knew something she didn't, It was the fact that he had demanded something from her that infuriated her.

"I know how to do this." Sarah Lyons was proud and she was stubborn, refusing to give up her weapon and instead placing a strong grip on the metal.

"As far as I'm concerned, Sarah Lyons, I was put in charge of this mission and in charge of you. If you know this material so much, you wont encounter a problem. A bad report to your father _will_ lower your rank and that's not something you want." He raised his voice a bit, using his temporary authority over her. "Give Colvin your Weapon, Lyons." He demanded her again.

She angrily and forcefully pushed her gun into Colvin's chest and looked The Wanderer in the face. She looked fearless. Something fluttered in his stomach at that. But, he ignored it and stared at her face, which was stuck in a fierce position.

"I'll be the Trog. You protect yourself." He said to her. She rolled her eyes, but nodded regardless.

The Lone Wanderer waited a moment, positioning his feet, waiting slightly for her to let down her guard, which she did after a moment or so.

And then he charged at her with all the force he had.

She raised her elbow in a fast, almost indistinct motion. The Wanderer stumbled back as the air had rushed out of his lungs with his chests' colliding with Sarah's elbow.

He paused only for a moment, taking in a wheezed breath and then raced at her again. This time, he ran toward her side, pretending to attack her front. She saw it coming a second before it happened and, she threw her arm up and back, making her body spin and her arm collide with his face.

He cursed silently as he stumbled slightly and fell back. _Yes, That would bruise quite terribly._ It slightly frustrated him, to the point where he charged again and once again got an elbow to the stomach. He wheezed out as an exhale. It took a moment for his breathing ability to come back.

The group around started whispering. Some were laughing. The infamous Lone Wanderer, Savior of the Wasteland, The Cosmic Collider, was taking what would soon become quite an infamous beating from Sarah Lyons.

He was infuriated. He stepped up, and raced as she'd lifted her head to laugh with her group. He caught her around the waist, causing her fall back on the sand, him on top of her, and her coughing and wheezing for air for a moment. She stopped wheezing and let out a very dull, "Ow."

He started shaking a bit. He wasn't feeling normal. He felt a crazy feeling deep in his abdomen that spread through his limbs.

He was _Nervous?_

"Are you Okay?" He asked quietly, the words croaking out of his throat.

"Well, beside the fact that it feels like you broke my _freaking rib_, Oh yeah I'm fine." She said, rolling her eyes.

He didn't move for a moment. Then someone coughed and broke the silence, making the moment incredibly awkward.

The Wanderer jumped to his feet and held a hand out for her to stand. She refused his hand, picking herself instead.

_Stubborn._ He thought to himself, walking over to grab his weapon and armor from the ground.

_They would be entering the city in two hours._


End file.
